“And they let you do that?”
“They needed some one to take care of their own,” she said, with a frown, “and we agreed—my mother and I—to do that if we could be permitted to nurse our own men. Six times the village changed hands, but on that night—Christmas Night—it was ours. So we made ready to celebrate. We organized a concert. Oh, it was a strange concert! There were over a hundred wounded in that great barn, and only a dozen could stand on their legs, but they were all so gay, for that is something our brave little poilus never lose,—their gaiety. And there was to be a tree, and all sorts of funny presents. And the concert! There was a quartet, and there was a waiter from the Café de Paris who was lying in a stall—with his feet carried off—who was to sing comic songs, and a real tenor from the Conservatoire, who would sing magnificent arias from the opera, and then there was to be a comic recitation, and a classic recitation. Every one quite forgot their troubles in the excitement. But Christmas morning a dozen wounded were brought in, and one, a sergeant of chasseurs, in such a dreadful state that we did not think he would live through the day. So of course, we prepared to give up the celebration: and what do you think? He heard the men talking, and he sent for me.
“‘Mademoiselle, is it true you are giving up the concert on my account?’
“‘You are in a bad way, mon petit!’ I told him.
“‘Bad way! Allons! I am going to die,’ he broke out. ‘Eh, bien! I choose to die gaily, instead of in a corner, like a dog. It is my wish that the concert go on. And tell the comrades to sing out good and strong!’
“It was done, as he wished.”
“And he died?”
“Not that day, but the next,” she said, “without a complaint. Do you think that when I can remember there are men like that in France, I have a right to be sad?”
The deck steward came and went, and we began our luncheon. A hundred questions were on my tongue, but I gave voice to none.
“They were so patient and so simple in their courage,” she continued gravely, “always trying to help me. Many times, I’ve had a soldier who was suffering say to me: